


Bell, Book, and Candle

by RaisedByCats



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, I'm so sorry, Kylo is a snark queen in his own right, M/M, Oral sex sort of, Sex Toys, Spanking, hux can't help being a dick, just awful, light snark/heavy petting, may the sass be with you, more oral aggravation, probably fingering I don't know guys why not, terrible witch jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisedByCats/pseuds/RaisedByCats
Summary: Kylo Ren: honest-to-goodness witch. Hux ranks this information as slightly less important than the desire to get in his boyfriend's pants, but it is by no means something he's going to let go lightly. What better time to highlight the ridiculousness of Ren's 'hobby' than Halloween?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ottenebrare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottenebrare/gifts).



> For Ottenbrare, whose art and meta for this idea inspired the whole thing. Thank you for the birthday painting! <3 <3 <3

It would be possible to let it go, Hux thought, if not for the _aesthetic._

The first step through Ren's front door isn't jarring, no disembodied chicken appendages dangle from the ceiling, no chalk pentagrams sketched at the doorway, a distinct lack of burning sage smell. It's still a far cry from Hux's studio apartment with its soft eggshell-white walls and collections of meticulously gold-dipped, pinterest-worthy cactus pots. 

No, here innumerable damp drafts present themselves at every corner, each single-pane window painted shut and razored open repeatedly in gummy layers of color that peel at the sashes (sage green over lavender, and below THAT, rancid butter), and in lieu of succulents is a single rambling pothos vine, sprawling arrogantly out of its cracked terra cotta pot from living room to kitchen on makeshift ceiling hooks and cabinet knobs. Forgivable on its own. As was Ren's casual admission days earlier, tangled up in Hux's long legs and arms and mumbled into the warm space below his ear.

Hux blamed the season for his off-the-cuff remark about broomstick polishing, casually/not-casually attempting to persuade Kylo's attentions lower than his neck. Then Hux had blamed the mulled wine and Kylo's equally awful sense of humor for the laughing response. "I'm not that kind of witch." 

Could he be blamed for laughing then? Could he be blamed now for pausing in what passes for a kitchen and giving worried glances to the proliferation of bottles, notebooks, mortars and pestles (actual well-used, non-decorative mortars, plural) occupying much of the counter? At worst, he had expected a repeat of his ninth grade family reunion, when the Weird Cousin he'd been shuffled off onto at the manor had dug out a shoebox of quartz crystals and half-burned birthday candles and made a similar pronouncement. Hux's returning stare must have spoken for him, for no more overtures of arcane nature were made, and he'd rounded out the evening by getting very drunk on punch. 

'Punch' and 'drunk' were on his mind again, for different reasons. Kylo is looking over at him with a casual wariness, draping his battered leather coat over the tiny island and reaching up to tie back his hair. The thin cotton v-neck stretches dangerously across his chest and biceps and Hux reminds himself firmly that as long as no polishing has been forthcoming and no small red-haired effigies show up on Kylo's bedside table, that all this is worth it for the long game. 

"It's...quaint," he manages, when Kylo's attention loses some of its casual quality. One eyebrow up. Not for the first time, Hux wishes he'd been gifted with the ability to lie. He hunches his shoulders inside his sweater and uses what he knows to be a very charming smile, tilting his head so his bangs will sweep forward, also charmingly. "It's just a little cold, isn't it? Old houses." The eyebrow descends. Kylo smiles crookedly and drapes the jacket around Hux's thin shoulders, squeezing them briefly. Hux has a momentary thrilling thought about the possible applications of those giant hands, but it's quickly quashed when Ren passes him to gather real, actual logs from a crate in the corner and slings them into a potbellied cast-iron abomination. 

"Sorry, I don't like to leave the stove going while I'm out. It's old, and I haven't cleaned the chimney yet this year." Hux is in danger of being charmed back, and only barely resists by being contemptuous about a calendar on the wall emphatically marked with scribbled moon phases. Now is the moment for an opening foray: several weeks into gradually more intensive sessions on the couch, comfortably ensconced in warm, Ren-smelling leather, at the absolute peak of his own fall-weather attractiveness. 

"When you said you were a witch, I think I pictured more cats and cauldrons," he offers lightly, focusing on the lines of Ren's shoulders hunched before the woodstove. Outrageous, really. A body better suited to a meat-headed gym fanatic than a modern day mystic. The kind of body the General would have preferred on his son. Well, Hux did plan to have that body on him, one way or the other. He looked forward to the General's opinions on _that_ at the family Thanksgiving.

Kylo's short laugh bolsters Hux's hopes that perhaps all this was tongue-in-cheek dabbling, but only briefly. "That's my mother's department. She's a fan of the classics." A hint of smoke curls through the air and Kylo straightens up to smile back at him again. "I follow my grandfather's school of thought. The craft needs to evolve with the times to keep its effectiveness. Before you ask, no, I'm not selling hexes on Etsy, and no, I'm not blessing your laptop." He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, still grinning through it, and Hux is acutely aware that this is the moment in which he chooses to be Ok With This or possibly doom himself from ever suffocating under those well-filled pectorals. He considers this carefully. He notes the slight reticence and hope struggling behind Ren's teeth. He's going to let it go. He's going to laugh and then let it go and then spend a glorious evening shacked up under an heirloom quilt receiving and giving the best head of his life thanks to some virility charm. 

"So, what, you dance around naked in the moonlight, right? Am I invited to watch?"

With a sinking feeling, Armitage Hux is reminded that he has never in his life, not once, let it go.

What if he said nothing and it never comes up again, and they marry and he's forced to live being uncomfortably flippant about his husband's awkward obsession with magic potions? What if he says nothing and there's some weird...sex...thing? What if this very pretty man, obviously _too_ pretty to simply be a nice man who is interested in Hux and happens to have a beautiful body and a comforting manner, has a horrendously gullible nature that ruins the entire package? Obviously Hux had to say something. Obviously that something had to be mildly offensive and crass. To show that he was joking. But also appalled. But, joking!

There's a tightening across those thick, gorgeously uneven lips. 'Not really.' 

Hux walks himself home that night, shivering, with only a cursory good night kiss, and does not see the inside of the bedroom. 

His apprehension cools gradually. Besides an uncanny aptitude for mechanical repair, the only thing Kylo seems well known for is his mercurial temper (an attribute Hux finds he doesn't mind so long as it's directed toward troublesome exes and not himself). A week passes before he considers his jibes sufficiently forgotten to offend again when Kylo picks him up from the studio. 

"Can't wait for you to see this set. I was really in my element today. Luis is a magician with the camera. Maybe I should introduce you; you can compare techniques."

"Hux."

"What?"

He thinks himself forgiven later, with Kylo backed against his apartment door, Hux's tongue in his mouth and Hux's hand shoved far up the front of another maddening V-neck. He can't tell if it's the unrelieved sexual tension they've been building over the past months or his own smart mouth that makes Kylo pull his hair sharply and swear when Hux's nails graze his nipple, but it takes effort for him to extricate himself and finally get out Hux's door. So naturally, Hux does it again. 

"Is your landlady an actual witch or is she always like that? Does she only rent to her own kind? Is there a craigslist section for that?"

"Hux."

"I'm just asking."

Hux can't help but be smug that he finally talks his way into the bedroom despite this (there are no voodoo dolls, only lumps of fat, plum-hued amethyst on the bedside table and a scattering of deep rusty-red stones on the peeling windowsill) though he isn't allowed more than desperate, shirtless dry humping above the covers, shivering and panting and moaning incoherent sounds into Kylo's lips. He worms his hand down the front of Kylo's jeans, chafing his wrist against his belt buckle as he squirms awkwardly. He gets a momentary, glorious palmful through his briefs and withdraws to attack the zipper to finally, _finally_ get his hands on some amazing cock _(fuck, he's enormous everywhere, FUCK)_ when the firm, warm grip leaves his ass to pull his hand away. Hux pouts, but only slightly, mollified by the offer to spend the night. Drifting off with his erection jutting rather pointedly into Kylo's hip, he wonders how much farther he might have gotten if he'd kept his mouth shut. Kylo's continued response of exasperated silence only seems to inflame the urge for Hux to needle him. 

"Cute tattoo. Is it from Harry Potter?"

"Promise you won't read my aura today, my inner goddess forgot to blowdry."

"Your birthday is coming up, do you already have a subscription to the Pyramid Collection? Before you say no, look at these boots."

And so, Hux wasn't going to take advantage at the Halloween party. He really wasn't. It's too easy, the mother of all cheap shots. It could be that he's imagining the vague tiredness on Kylo's face, passing all the storefronts decked in warty noses and broomsticks and eye of newt, but he's wary all the same. And in any case, it's difficult enough to get Kylo to make an appearance to one of Hux's parties without making a tasteless gaff at him in front of guests. No, Hux will behave, and Kylo will be charmed by his hospitality and long, charged looks across a crowded room. There will be mulled wine, tacky, ironic Halloween costumes that will make Hux stand out gracefully in comparison, strategic brushing of bodies in overcrowded spaces, and then, Hux will be carried to the bedroom and have the false eyelashes fucked right off him. Flawless. That's the plan.

Until he sees the dress. 

It's a soft black number, really meant for some fake-ballet shoot, and not a proper costume, but it fits him off the rack and barely brushes the backs of his thighs in tight little flips as he walks. 

_Maybe he'll think it's funny,_ he rationalizes, smoothing his hands down his ribs and shivering as the thin fabric stretches and warms under his palms. _An inside joke, just between us,_ he tells himself, admiring the dusting of freckles across his collarbone, looking over his shoulder at the expanse of milk-white skin exposed by the scandalously low back. He has to wear this. It would be criminal not to. This will absolutely be the _last joke_ and then he will resign himself to a long and fulfilling relationship with someone who possibly speaks to toads but also bench presses Hux's weight and brings him flowers when he's sad. 

He lifts it from the dressing room the same day with only a small pang of guilt. 

The rest of the arrangements are simply window-dressing. What really matters, and what Hux executes effortlessly, is the moment Kylo first sees him in it, perched daintily on the kitchen counter, lit softly by countless strings of golden fairy lights, smiling slyly and surrounded by people laughing at something clever he's just said. The hat may be a bit much. He considers this with slight trepidation as his eyes rise to meet Kylo's. It's- well, it's a little frightening, honestly. The glare passes in a fraction of second, but Hux still feels skewered by it, enough to momentarily tumble the smile off his face. Was that rage or lust? Kylo's heavy features seem to exaggerate every expression nearly to caricature, but his dark eyes are unreadable as he sets his bottle of red on the table and quickly turns his best sincere smile to Phasma. Hux wiggles on his perch, and not just from the indulgent novelties he's wearing under the dress. It's possible, just possible, that he's made a mistake.

It's unclear if this is defeat, and escalation is necessary to draw any conclusion. Better escalation than apology. Point made, he loses the hat early on, the better for the light to catch the glitter of his eyeshadow (gold, not green, no nod to the classics is important enough for Hux to wear something that might detract from his eyes), and allows his flats to dangle artfully from his toes. Seduction is the most efficient way to regain any superiority he might have lost in this gamble, and it is not a game that Armitage Hux has ever lost or intends to lose.

He's quickly outmaneuvered. 

Kylo is everywhere Hux is all evening, somehow making it seem as if Hux is the one trailing him through his own apartment, besotted. When Hux rises on his toes to snag a bottle from the top wine rack, tactfully allowing the skirt to ride up to within a perilous inch of his lace panties, Kylo is suddenly behind him, resting a hand on his hip in a pretense of steadying him, hips nearly pressed snug against Hux's rear. He grabs the bottle out of Hux's reach easily, lording the paltry height difference over him while copping a surreptitious feel. Hux feels his ears redden as a few guests titter at his expense, and covers it with a seductive smirk. "Thank you," he bites out, snatching the bottle from Kylo's hands. 

When Hux sneaks out for a breath of cold air on the patio, Kylo is already there, leaning back against the railing in a way that ought to be reserved for particularly unbearable university sophomores, quietly talking with Thanisson. Hux isn't sure whether he's more infuriated with Thanisson for looking far too smart and well-groomed in his rolled-up shirtsleeves or the knowing wink he gives Kylo before excusing himself back to the party. Hux opens his mouth to say something, he hasn't exactly decided what, when Kylo beats him to the punch, detaching himself casually from the railing and planting his tongue in Hux's mouth in front of the picture window and half the apartment. Hux reels, feels fingers dragging over the goosebumps on his thigh and lifting his skirt clear up to his waist on one side, baring half his ass to any passers-by on the street below. He drops it again before Hux can slap him, but Kylo only murmurs 'Those are nice. We should get back to the party,' before leaving him alone. Hux is forced to stand on the balcony, teeth chattering, for a solid minute, just to prove that he came out for the _air_ and _not_ for Kylo bloody Ren. 

 The last straw is when Hux excuses himself to the bathroom, only to find Kylo leaving it. He looks over Hux's shoulder to the empty hall, grabs him by the wrist, and yanks him bodily inside, closing the door behind him. Free to vent his ire out of the view of his guests, Hux starts to demand an explanation for this behavior. He's cut short _again_ when Kylo drops to his knees in front of him, presses him up against the door, and lifts the skirt. "For fuck's sake, now is really n-" makes it out of his mouth before Kylo has his open lips over his cock, mouthing at the semi-hard bulge through the lace. 

Hux's breath deserts him along with his words and there's nothing to do but bury his fingers in Kylo's outrageously lustrous hair and hang on. The underwear is fast becoming uncomfortably constrictive; Kylo pulls it down sharply with the hand that's not pinning Hux's skirt up against his stomach, and Hux himself against the door. Maddeningly, he avoids his cock entirely. Instead he trails teasing kisses down the insides of his thighs. Hux feels the heat of his breath curling over his skin as he laughs quietly, 

"You wore all this just for me. How thoughtful." He drops the panties to Hux's ankles, skimming his hand back up between his thighs. Hux tenses when Kylo's fingers nudge the plug -perhaps this is when the scales will finally tip back in his favor- and he looks down at him with sultry superiority. Kylo simply looks at him with vague surprise and measured interest. 

"Really." Nonplussed, Hux lifts first one foot, then the other as Kylo drops the skirt and nudges them each in turn, pulling the lacy underwear free. He stands, tucks them calmly in his back pocket. "If these are for me, then I'm keeping them." Kylo opens the door and gives Hux a swift peck on the cheek in the same motion. 

And leaves. 

Again. 

Hux stands there outraged with his mouth open, an unrestrained erection making an uncomfortable spectacle in the skirt, and an agonizing inability to take a piss.

It takes an eternity for the last people to clear out, Thanisson in particular is gloriously drunk and garrulous, one arm draped around Phasma and another around Kylo as they walk him bodily to the door. Hux hears Kylo laughing to Phasma. She assures Ren that she'll get him home as Kylo assures her that he'll stay to clean up. Hux does not miss the infuriating wink that passes between them. The door closes behind them, Kylo turns to lean against it, and abruptly they're left facing each other in silence. Hux wonders for a moment if he's really ruined things after all, if Kylo's bizarre response to this latest practical joke was merely to humiliate him as a prelude to shouting at him or leaving him. His urge to lecture and pout dries up and blows away. He twists his fingers in his skirt unconsciously, and somehow this last unplanned bit of the performance, this minuscule display of vulnerability, tips some kind of scale in Ren's head. 

He's on Hux in a heartbeat, crushing his mouth on Hux's so aggressively that Hux teeters on his heels and has to be rescued by a firm arm around his back. They move awkwardly backward with the momentum until Hux is pressed up against the counter. Ren lifts him bodily by the ass to drop him on it. Stunned already by the onslaught, the shock through the plug makes Hux jerk away with a gasp and stiffens his cock with such speed that he feels dizzy. Kylo's mouth continues without his, claiming great possessive swaths of Hux's neck in bites and bruises. Hux is dimly aware under the sharp pangs that his agent will kill him for showing up tomorrow and needing an hour of makeup, but the thought vanishes under the growling in his ear. 

"You are the single most infuriating person I've ever met."

Hux only responds by wrapping long pale legs around his back, crossing his ankles behind Kylo's ass and grinding his cock firmly against his stomach. This is technically a victory condition, and he'll be damned if he's not going to rub salt in the wound in revenge for his compromised schemes. He catches a breath and fists a hand in Kylo's hair, pressing teeth harder against his collarbone. "I think you like it. You're afraid to admit it, this is what you want. Pointy hat and all. You want the _scene_."

Kylo resurfaces to look him in the eye. "I'm not the one playing dress up," he answers archly, seizing Hux by the waist and slinging him effortlessly over his shoulder, yanking a few of his hairs loose in Hux's fingers in the process. The skirt flips up over Hux's bare backside, his hair falls over his face, and he yelps, slapping ineffectually at Ren's ass as he's carried to the bedroom. He can barely hear Kylo over the blood rushing into his ears. "Are you really this petty, or is this all some sad little scheme to get me to fuck you?" Hux's world tips back upright dizzily as he's dropped to the bed. Kylo looms over him, face set halfway between amusement and exasperation. Hux is having difficulty keeping up with the power shifts, particularly with all thought taking a trip through his dick before successfully lodging in his brain. Obviously Ren is turned on. Hux has not yet achieved _insensate with need._

"You can't deny that it's working," Hux snips at him, arching his back coyly and angling his hips so the skirt rides up further. He knows how good he looks tousled, is ruthlessly exploiting the soft, sentimental expression that he's seen on Ren's face when Hux wakes in his bed and in his arms. Kylo's mouth twists as if aware of this manipulation. He turns away to sit on the edge of the bed, giving Hux just enough time to wonder if he's overdone it before he's grabbed bodily again and tumbled headfirst over Ren's lap. 

Well. This is promising. He's certainly enjoying the casual way in which Kylo shows off, manhandling Hux around the apartment. If that's how he's going to cope with Hux's barbs then Hux is only too happy to deal him another. Kylo's hands slide slowly up over his ass, pushing the skirt high onto his back and drifting back down with aggravating slowness. Hux stays silent except for a cursory indignant huff (breathing is a little difficult in his current predicament). He can't help the flush that rushes to his face when Kylo pulls his ass open to see exactly what Hux has been doing to himself all evening. There's silence, then a heavy sigh. He thinks he may see literal sparks as Ren lifts one hand to flick the plug lightly. 

"Really?" he asks again, and Hux refuses to be anything but pleased by his decision to shell out a few extra dollars for the pentagram stamp on the base. 

"It's not really a _virgin _sacrifice," he answers primly. Hux feels only the searing sting of victory when Kylo's hand comes down. Victory and a slightly uncomfortable chafing from the press of his cock against Kylo's wide thigh. "Insufferable, ignorant..." the muttered abuse over him trails off, but a second smack is not forthcoming until Hux wiggles provocatively across his lap, making it clear that he's not objecting to the rough treatment.__

There's a brief pause, he wonders whether Kylo's changed his mind, when the second blow lands unexpectedly sharp and twice as hard, dead center. Hux leaps like a hooked fish, held steady by Kylo's other arm pressed down across his back and gripping his shoulder. He claws at the floor, gasping, rock hard, and instantly _furious_. He's painfully aware that he's inexperienced at this. He was expecting to moan prettily, to get off on whatever naughty schoolboy fantasy he could rustle up on short notice, leave Kylo desperate to get his hands all over him. He hadn't planned for the visceral urge to punch, fuck, or be fucked to override his basic functions in a deafening haze.

When he comes back to awareness he realizes Kylo has paused, hand raised. Hux's voice is raspy and unrecognizable. "What are you waiting for? Spiritual inspiration?" he spits. 

He supposes that the next slaps span only twenty or so blistering seconds, but the combination of flaring fire across his ass, the friction of his cock against Kylo's leg each time he's rocked forward with a blow, and the sweet, unbelievable tease of the plug nudging so close to the angle he needs with every slap. It feels like it will never end. He can't say a word, can hardly suck in a breath until they stop. The groan that escapes him when Kylo drags his knuckles lightly down his red cheeks is like no sound he's made in bed before; he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth when he realizes he's been drooling onto the floor. 

He's going to wreck Ren. Wreck him or murder him. Both. As soon as he can move again. Ren's fingers are encouraging him to take his time, twisting the plug now, drawing it out with aching slowness before pushing it back in, the metal warm on his skin. "Are you going to fuck me, or do you need to light some incense first?" God, he cannot stop himself, he's beginning to think he may need a therapist. He flinches, anticipating another slap, but Kylo only snorts and tumbles him back onto the bed in a wincing heap. He braces himself over Hux, reaching down between his sprawling, boneless legs and pulling the plug free in a smooth motion. Hux's hips come off the bed after it with an indignant gasp. Kylo examines the design on the toy with mock solemnity. 

"I'm not fucking your ass. It's cursed. You cursed it."

Hux chokes down a startled disbelieving laugh and abandons all pretense of coyness, tugging and grappling at Kylo's sweater and tearing off his tshirt with it. His hands are shaking, literally shaking like some trashy novel character's. He gets his hands down to Ren's belt, throws it violently into the carefully pruned aspidistra, and yes, sweet fucking goddamn _finally_ Ren is helping him shuck his pants off and Hux has both hands around a cock he may literally cry over. 

Kylo's tight expression (it's all tight, everything Hux can see, it's all his, he cannot believe he's been waiting months for this) and firmly closed eyes deliver a vicious twinge of satisfaction that goes straight to the base of Hux's spine in a warm rush. Ren's voice is strained. 

"Do you-"

"Drawer."

"Do you need-"

" _Yes,_ but _hurry_.... Ow. Not that much of a hurry." 

"No, leave it. I like you in the dress."

Hux blames his own impatience and the incendiary sensation of his still-tingling ass against the sheets for smacking Kylo's torturous fingers away and pulling him in too soon. He's barely breached before he hisses and grips Kylo's biceps to stop him, hard enough to leave nail marks. Kylo dips his head to Hux's, soothing him with slow deep kisses until his hands unclench. Hux seethes at this coddling, but accepts it, even with the smug smiles he can feel against his lips. "Would you rather ride me? You've been riding me all month, after all. I was beginning to think you had a preference for it." Hux glares back venomously, tilting his hips up and watching the smirk fade from Kylo's face, his pupils widening.

"Fuck..."

Kylo's voice takes on a raw quality that makes Hux's world lurch slightly sideways. He resists the urge to start moving roughly and likely injure himself, instead pulling his legs up tight behind Kylo's thighs to draw him in as deeply as possible. Ren's eyes are shut, his forehead resting against Hux's shoulder in a waterfall of soft, dark hair. Hux suspects Kylo is rigid under his hands only because he's trying not to come immediately, and doesn't miss the opportunity to gloat.

"Just because you're on top, doesn't mean you're in charge," he whispers softly against Kylo's hair, rocking his hips slowly against Kylo's. "Just because you're strong, it doesn't mean I can't break you." There's only a cracked moan in response, so Hux continues, smoothing his hands over those massive shoulders, dragging his nails down the innumerable dark freckles on his back, moving for both of them until he feels Ren stiffen against him and slide an arm under his back. 

The tight grip drags some of his attention off the delicious stretch he's enduring. Kylo sits back until he's kneeling, drawing Hux's hips off the bed with him. Hux misses the warmth over him immediately, but it's better this way, where he can see Kylo's glazed eyes staring down at where their bodies join, where he can arch his back and fuck himself onto Kylo's cock, bracing himself on Kylo's arm. This is the spectacle Hux has been orchestrating, and it's every bit as beautiful as he had hoped. He doesn't like to interrupt, doesn't want to break Kylo's mesmerized attentions, but he's missing something. 

"Hey," Hux reaches up, sweeps Kylo's hair back from his face, draws his fingertips down his jaw to gently tip his chin up. "Look at me," he commands softly. Kylo raises his eyes to Hux's and smiles slowly. 

"I have been." Looking into his partners' eyes during lovemaking has often been awkward, but in the moment it feels more like an anchor, keeping him from being swept away into the narrower world of his own personal pleasure. Kylo's hands grip his hips, his thumbs brush down over the slim arch of Hux's bones and he's pulled up to meet the snap of Ren's hips with a gasp. Hux's hands fist in the sheets above his head, he twists helplessly as Ren thrusts into him fast, then slow, both of them forgetting any pretense of power struggles or pride. His mind only cycles between the bruises forming in the tender skin under Kylo's hands, the shuddering electric pleasure that makes his own cock tense and jump with nearly every slide of Ren's, the ache of his neck and shoulders as he arches and falls back over and over again. 

Kylo is still staring at him, not as if he's won, but as if Hux is something ethereal and impossible that might disappear if he takes his eyes off of him for a moment. Hux has to kiss him for it, has to physically climb into Ren's lap, pulling himself up by Ren's already straining arms to suck his tongue, lick against his teeth, to bite his lips when these things aren't enough to thank Ren for looking at him like that. 

There's no need to perform now, Ren's arms wrap around him hard enough to make him breathless and all Hux wants to do is fold into him, fuck him until his thighs burn and his throat is dry and he can slick Ren's ridiculous hair back out of his eyes with their sweat. He resolves to do this at the next earliest opportunity; he can't possibly last after a day of teasing and spanking and _god_ the noises Ren makes are deep and inhuman and nearly embarrassing until he hears the high, breathless sounds coming from himself, and then he's coming with eyes squeezed shut and mouth open slack against Ren's shoulder, clenching down on Kylo until he's swearing and crushing Hux onto him. 

Though it was comforting before, Hux doesn't trust himself to look Kylo in the eye just yet without doing something outrageous like declaring his undying love. He crumples inward onto Ren's chest instead, heedless of his soiled dress and aching, dripping ass. Kylo's hands move slowly over his back, warm and grounding. Several long moments of catching breath pass, soft kisses against his neck slowly reopening Hux's lanes of conscious thought.

"I should apologize," he forces out, before he can think better of it. 

"Don't hurt yourself," Ren replies with amusement, gently disentangling them enough to lean against the headboard and allow Hux to continue hiding in his chest. 

It's perfect there, and as much as Hux does not want to admit it, the anticipation has only heightened the final payoff. This simply means that he's going to wring every last bit of sex out of Kylo before he's allowed to leave the bed. It's only fair after the waiting, and the party. "You ruined my evening, you know. I still don't know how you managed it."

"Oh, you know." Kylo exhales a long, slow breath through his nose, carding his fingers through Hux's hair with one hand and teasing at the rumpled edges of the skirt on his thigh with the other. Hux melts into it without intending to, eyes closed, the heavy thud of Kylo's heartbeat in his ear. "Magic."

This time, Hux does slap him.

**Author's Note:**

> With apologies to everyone, but most of all to witches who have to put up with Huxes and doubtful research results by fanfiction authors everywhere.


End file.
